I Just Got Called "A Yankee"

I made small talk with a nice man at the coffee shop.  He was waiting for his first dose of thunder, I was poised for round two.

He wore a bright white v-neck t-shirt and even brighter white pants.  I assumed he was a painter.

“I’m guessing your outfit will be a lot dirtier by the end of the day,” I said with a hint of apprehension.

“Well, now, actually it’s gonna be a clean day,” he replied with a calculated drawl.

“Where ya from?,” I asked.

“Originally Texas.  Spent a lot of years in Virginia, but there’re a lot of Yankees there, so it don’t really count,” he said with a tinge of remorse.

“Not a big fan of Yankees?”

“Well, they just weren’t nice.”

“I’m from Wisconsin and we are some of the nicest people around,” I said trying to win him over.

“Well, I was born in Iowa, so I guess I’m a Yankee on some level.”

Ha!  So, that was a real conversation.  And it proves my point about life and humanity.  If you dig deep enough, we’re all the same.

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With that in mind, about 2,500 friends of mine will be tackling Ironman Louisville next Sunday in 90 degree heat.  We’ll come from a melting pot of backgrounds, geography, and philosophies.  But we’ll all be focused on one thing . . . ascending to a higher plane.

Of those 2,500 people, every one will have a different training philosophy.  Some will chase miles, some will race for fun, others will be energized by fear.

But we are all the same.

We all want to become better, stronger, and more consistent people.  It would take a while, maybe a lifetime, but I would love to sit with each one and drill down to our connective center.  Find our common fears, battles and dreams.  Feel the relief as hypocrisy falls from our bones.

Yankees, Southerners, Texans, Blacks, Whites, Asians, Jews, old, young, men, women.  All seeking the truth.  All not settling for a pre-definined place in life . . . or a label.

People from the SEC, the Big 10, Pac 10, ACC, and Big East.  All releasing their differences for a cause.  A cause that rises higher than logos and exists in a place we can’t define.

There will be an endless list of pretense, but for one day, 2,500 of us will dispose of trivial beliefs and focus on the real meaning of faith.  Faith in a higher and more meaningful quest.  A direct apprehension of something bigger than our collective selves.  We will experience the ultimate meditation.  Up to 17 hours of being in the moment.  And when we are in the moment there are no Yankees, Southerners, Texans, Blacks, Whites, Asians, Jews, old, young, men, or women.

There just is.

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Winning "The Battle of Ironman" #IMLOU

I quit my job two weeks ago and have an Ironman in nine days.  I have a million conflicts in my mind and for some reason, not many have been falling onto the page.  And that’s bad, because I truly believe writing about triathlon has helped me nearly as much as the blood and sweat.

I am infinitely more relaxed about this Ironman than I was my first.  Finishing doesn’t scare me.  But I’m not convinced that’s a good thing.

Last year I trained 9 solid months.  This year I have been in and out due to injuries and even took 10 Days of Rest in the middle of training.  I am calm, but that doesn’t mean I am confident.

I have swam 2.4 miles twice in my life.  Once in training last year and once at Ironman Wisconsin.  I haven’t come close this year, but feel frequent shorter swims have made me a better swimmer.  I’m excited and curious to see how that plays out.

I have ridden 112 miles twice in my life.  Both last year as well.

My longest in 2014 is 77 miles, but I also feel like I am a stronger cyclist now.  I’ve certainly been “on” the bike more in the last couple months and hope my intense focus on riding in aero pays off in Louisville.

And, if you like drama, intrigue, conflict, and mystery, keep an eye locked on Iron Trac during my run.  I’ve been fighting injuries for most of the summer and walking more than running.  Just as I was easing back to the pavement, I hurt my ribs so I shelved running until race day.  My longest training run of the year is 12 miles, and that was two months ago.  In 9 days I’ll run 26.2.

I fueled on fear for Wisconsin.  I chased the finish line and medal with reckless abandon.  It lifted me higher than I’d been in years.  I thought I had arrived.  But Ironman and life don’t go away.

I was overly confident at New Orleans 70.3 in March and it ate me alive.  I vowed never to take a race lightly again.

That said, I believe confidence is the most important thing in Ironman.  You have to believe or you’re setting yourself up to fail.

So, 9 days out, I’m drinking coffee with bruised ribs and thinking about the swim line up at Ironman Louisville.  I’ve been there as a spectator so I know how it feels.  It’s intimidating and breathless as you stand there offering support, but putting on the race gear gives me confidence.

You dial in to face a crafty enemy.  Silent, omnipresent, resiliant.  It’s a war of attrition.  There are no guarantees, but if you stay focused, respect the race, and believe in yourself, you will win the battle.  You will raise your hands high and celebrate victory, but the war is never over.

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I'm Racing Ironman With Bruised Ribs #IMLOU

Of all the crazy thoughts leading up to an Ironman Louisville, bruised ribs was the last thing on my mind.  But, last week I had a fluke injury and it has thrown a completely new wrench into my taper.

I am the king of self-diagnosis/remedy, so I have combed the internet looking for a quick fix to this problem.  Hours and hours of reading in bed with an ice pack have revealed . . . there is no quick fix.

I have, however tried the following:

–  Apple Vinegar Compress
–  Epsom Salt baths with Lavender
–  Ice
–  Heating pad
–  Drinking Tumeric powder mixed with water and black pepper
–  Light stretching
–  Advil
–  Hemlock
–  Witch Doctors
–  Incense
–  Tons of juicing with a lot of garlic
–  Heavy doses of vitamins
–  Pizza
–  Lots of protein shakes

By all accounts bruised ribs are a 3-6 week heal and I just don’t have that kind of time.  So, what’s a guy to do?  Get steeped in “House of Cards” episodes (I watched 8 in a row) or stay active and get used to the pain?

I’ve opted for both, but mainly the latter.  I’ve determined that laying around doesn’t seem to make enough difference and my thought with any kind of illness (which is how I’m viewing this) is to work it out.

That doesn’t mean I am killing myself, but I am riding and swimming a little to keep the blood moving.  What I’ve noticed is it usually hurts more when I’m done, which should be a great incentive to keep me moving during this race.

And having bruised ribs will likely help me with one other major factor:  patience.

Ironman is a long day and I simulated the start of my swim today by staying way under control.  Purposely going slow and making sure I didn’t over-extend my reach, catch, or pull.  The result was fairly encouraging.  I swam an easy 1,000 meters and it was right around my expected time.  The question is, can I hold that for 2,800 more?

The bad news was, as soon as I got out of the pool is when it felt like I was the subject of a Voodoo Doll experiment.  Tantalizing pain through my chest, especially with deep breathing.  So, if you see me taking my time up the swim exit ramp in Louisville, you’ll know someone in a remote village of Africa is playing a sadistic trick.

The bottom line here is, I’m going to have to deal with pain and that’s where my energy will go the next 11 days or so.  I must be mentally prepared to move pain around my body.

It is what it is.

I thought about possibly deferring to Maryland, but Louisville is the race I want, and frankly, sometimes you’re just ready to race.  Another month isn’t going to make the difference.

I have decided to look at this injury as a positive.  It adds to the challenge and frankly eases my nerves because it pisses me off. I’m going to tackle this race one way or another, and hopefully all that pain in my ribs will make me forget about my planter fasciitis, tender Achilles tendon and all the real suffering in the world.

In the meantime I’ll be working on my base tan with Mattie.

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Ironman Louisville Meet Mr. Badwater

I realize 13 days is a long time and weather forecasting is a crap shoot, but here’s the latest forecast for Ironman Louisville on Sunday August 24th.  I’m glad they put the “very hot” part in there because 99 degrees would have never tipped me.

The funny thing is, on some level this really pumps me up.  Ironman is a big deal and why not make it bigger with legendarily difficult conditions?  It would be the opposite of last year’s Tahoe and definitely go down in the annals of Ironman lore as one of those “remember 2014 in Louisville?”

Badwater describes itself as “The world’s toughest foot race” and often clocks in around 120 degrees in the shade.  They literally have to run on the white lines on the road or their shoes will melt.  Think about that one for a second.

So, if you get your head right, 99 degrees should technically feel like a cool and crisp Fall morning.

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Longevity and Consistency in Ironman Training

Imagine what it would be like to do 162 Sprint Triathlons from April to October for 17 straight years.

You don’t have to win, or even podium, but you have to show up . . . and finish.  Could you stay healthy and motivated enough to do it?

My slew of injuries got me thinking about longevity and consistency, which led me to Cal Ripken and his 2,632 consecutive games streak.  Talk about an Ironman.

cal-ripken-streak-consecutive-games-played-conspiracyI know what you’re saying, “It’s only baseball,” but let me tell you, I played baseball my whole life and it is very similar to triathlon.  You are constantly battling nagging injuries that beg for a day (or week) off.

Ripken should really go onto the triathlon circuit and speak about preparation and mental toughness.  I’m guessing his major theme would be to “stay within yourself.”

He didn’t dive for every ball, and didn’t risk hamstrings by over-extending for infield hits, he stayed patient, because just like Ironman, the Major League Baseball season is a grind.

His lifetime batting average was .276, which is basically 1 for 4.  Every night, he was one for four.

He studied opposing hitters more than any other shortstop and his defensive position was impeccable.  He saved steps and energy by being prepared.

Ripken wasn’t overly flashy, he just kept grinding his way toward the finish line. He managed pain and stayed with his game plan, regardless of who may have criticized his effort.

I am certain there were times in June when he “could” have swung for the fence to end the game with a dramatic home run, or dove to stop a ball from the outfield, but he knew that would put the end-game at risk.  His comfort pace was 9 minute miles and he rarely dropped to 8:30 early in a race.

I was a Brewers’ fan growing up and rarely liked opposing players.  Ripken was no different.  He was the enemy and often hurt my favorite team.  He was always there and I truly got sick of seeing him.

But now I can easily say he is one of my favorite and most respected athletes of all time.  Tons of guys put up better numbers and won more awards, but Ripken’s consistency is unparalleled.  And really, when you’re talking about racing, teammates or friends, what is more valuable than consistency?

Ripken understood one of the most valuable principles:  90% of life is showing up.

Or, maybe he carried Yogi Berra’s famous quote on his glove: “Baseball is ninety percent mental, the other half is physical.”

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Another Exciting Challenge

“I like to talk about managing pain, and now I have another grand opportunity.”  –Me

Have you ever quit your job, gone on your first freelance video shoot, slipped on a throw rug, and slammed your ribs into the corner of a hard wooden table two weeks before your Ironman?  If not, I’m about to tell you how that feels.

Ever since the injury I have mainly been dealing with the pain of . . . breathing, which is a great problem to have when you’re heading into a 12-hour endurance event.  The worst part is, it happened just as I was starting to feel good about the race.

I had been swimming every day (not long) and really dialing in my form.  For kicks I swam the next day and had to stop at 400 meters.

It’s not excruciating pain, but a nuisance for sure.  To make it worse, I tried a little jogging on Saturday and every time I landed it was irritating.  So, we can add bruised rib to the strained Achilles/Plantar Fasciitis questions revolving around my run.

The good news:  It happened at the start of my taper.  Maybe it’s a spiritual sign.  Maybe it’s a way for higher powers to hold me back and make sure I rest and recover.

I’ll take a little bike ride this afternoon and see how that goes, but find this to be an incredible test of patience.

On one hand I am sort of comfortable because I’ve always believed exercise should give you energy and not take it away.  On the other, I have typically been the “cram all night for an exam” kinda guy.

But I believe preparing for months is always better than jamming it all into a few days.  I have to trust the weeks, months, and last year have gotten me to a point where I am ready to cover 140.6.  And honestly, I do believe that, but the question is always, “How well will I cover it?”

We’ll find out soon.

 

16 Days from Ironman Louisville #IMLOU

You know that feeling right before you go over the crest of a big hill on your bike?  That’s what this feels like.

It’s been a slow climb, but once I get through this weekend, I will be flying toward a head on collision with Ironman Louisville.

These last couple weeks are when your emotional shit really hits the fan, but I’m working hard on not letting that happen.  I’ve been consistent, though short, with my workouts, and have one remaining goal:  to feel good on race day.

Not having a job has helped (I’m still formulating how to write about leaving corporate America) because it has loosened my body and mind.  I always talk about being limber for my race and I think that could be the biggest benefit from not having stressful work environment.

So, how am I planning to tackle Louisville?

Swim my pace, bike under control, and manage pain on the run.

It sounds simple, but it will not be easy.

The energy of the race lures you like an ice cream truck.  That creepy music plays over and over in your head, tempting your patience as you scramble through the neighborhood chasing cravings.

It’s the finish line you can’t see, but know is there.  We have to remember the ice cream will eventually find us.  It wants to finds us . . . and needs us more than we need them.

The Ironman finish line is no different.  Eventually it drops in our lap . . . the key is to stay patient and have faith that they won’t run out of ice cream before you get there.

 

Discipline and Desire

It’s the oldest conflict in the book.  How do we control our desires?

The Dali Llama says we should do it through discipline, and he’s always right.  You crave cake now, but hold off and four hours later, you’re really happy you didn’t have that cake.  But how do we do that?

I’m not a big believer in willpower, but I am a fan of habit.  Slowly adding practices that move you toward a goal.

And on the road to building those habits, I have tried to build another one . . . forgiveness.

I think self-doubt is the reason we eat cake.  The more we can trust the process and forgive ourselves, the stronger we become.

It’s really important to step back and look at the body of work.  Look at the distance we’ve traveled and give ourselves credit.  It’s easy to beat yourself up when you’re down, and those opportunities are endless when training for Ironman.

I am often weak and make a lot of “mistakes.”  I skip workouts and occasionally eat cake.  But real change takes time, and it helps when I remind myself.

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Transitions in Triathlon and Life

This has been sitting in the cue for a while, but since I quit my job of 14 years on Friday, it’s probably the perfect time to release a post on transition.  

You’re running bare foot down a rough concrete path, soaking wet, and your heart is racing.  Next stop, your bike where you will fry your legs on relentless hills.  Often the quality of your ride will depend on how you handle the first two miles.

This all plays perfectly into a gem of an insight I found while reading “The Art of Learning” by Joshua Waitzkin.  He was talking about how he had trouble adapting to new cities because he traveled so much.  He missed his friends, family, home, etc.  But after a few days, he would always settle in and things would be better.

At some point he figured out that these were moments of “transition” and once he recognized that, he was able to turn up his focus and pay even more attention to being in the moment.  I thought this was a really cool insight that relates well to triathlon because, as we know, not much feels more awkward than getting off a bike to run.

Even biking after swimming takes a completely different mindset.  I can’t speak for everyone, but typically I’m breathing for dear life when I get on the bike and it’s everything I can do to slow my heart rate.

So, these transitions in life and triathlon are very similar.  It’s adapting, shifting your mind, and possibly more important, having faith.

I started thinking about this and one of my biggest transitional challenges happens every morning.  I wake up and feel completely unmotivated.  Somehow I have to shift gears and get into work mode.  That’s something that should, by nature, take time, but more often than not I go from zero to 50 in an hour.

It reminded me of something I noticed in the splits of my old neighbor’s race at Ironman Louisville last year.  He got tenth overall and first in his age group.  He swam solid, rocked the bike, then ran a 7:35 pace for the marathon.  But what I noticed was that his first two miles were extremely slow (for him).  Like over 9 minute pace.  He transitioned and let his body wake up for the run, then killed it.

This is the “patience part” of triathlon that I need to give more credibility.  In my last race at Rev3, I got up super early to do easy yoga and some meditation.  I felt like I was awake when it was time to swim.

But I got on the bike with my heart rate out of control.  My time was decent, but I can’t help wonder if I shouldn’t have taken it a little easier on the first couple miles, woke up, then hammered it.  The entire ride I was flirting with heavy breathing and I don’t think that’s my best play.

My legs were super tight off the bike, so I was forced to ease into the run and by the end was running my best.  Slow start, negative split.  That isn’t a term for nothing.  It works.

REv3 was an Olympic, and you can get away with little mistakes, but at Ironman, I will really need to carry that transition mindset into the next event.

Post Script:  Yes, I quit my job.  It was 100% my decision and long overdue.  I kept making a list of pros and cons, wants and needs, and the one thing that always came to the top for me was, freedom.  Freedom to do the things I want to do and spend time with people that inspire me.

It is now day 3 of freedom and couldn’t be going better.  I have some exciting opportunities in play and possibly more important, I feel substantially healthier.  I’m also more relaxed and in a better mood.  My genuine love for triathlon has resurfaced and that is another important side bar.  I love movement, sport, and challenge and am excited to jump into new waters.  I just have to remember to ease into the transition.